THE DAY OF THE JACKAL: Blu-ray (Universal, 1973) Arrow Academy

It could not have escaped Fred Zinnemann that by the time he was preparing to undertaking his ambitious adaptation of Frederick Forsyth’s best seller, The Day of the Jackal (1973), most, if not all of his contemporaries had either decamped the Hollywood scene or been unceremoniously deposed from their exalted directorial status, thanks to some high-profile flops. By ’73, the ground had decidedly shifted under the old guard’s feet; the well-oiled machinery of the great studios and their galvanized star system to have allowed Zinnemann to make such iconic masterpieces as High Noon (1952), From Here to Eternity (1953), Oklahoma! (1955), The Nun's Story (1959), and, A Man For All Seasons (1966), wiped out in the great purge and decline of the late 1960s.  Zinnemann’s cinematic style is perhaps best typified by his ability to reach deeper into the psychological realism of his characters, investigating the complexities of the human condition with a sincere desire to understand both motivation and outcome as far more than mere connective tissue to simply advance his plots. In his career, the Austrian-born Zinnemann would become renown and revered for this noteworthy depth that, despite its intellectual slant, never weighed heavily on the overall arc of his picture’s entertainment value.  

Precisely how Zinnemann came to direct The Day of the Jackal remains a curiosity. His last picture, A Man for All Seasons had swept the Academy Awards and been profitable besides. And yet, it did not serve as a springboard for Zinnemann to indulge in other projects. In fact, his next planned movie, the ironically titled, Man’s Fate, proved a disastrous quagmire when MGM shut production down and threatened to sue Zinnemann for half its $3.5 million budget already expended on preproduction.  In the eight years between A Man for All Seasons and The Day of the Jackal, Hollywood had experienced a seismic shift. The entertainments of old were no longer guaranteed box office; the old masters – now considered hopelessly passé. At roughly this same interval, journalist, Frederick McCarthy Forsyth was experiencing his own dry spell. Indeed, before becoming a famous author whose books have since sold an epic 70 million in total, Forsyth struggled to find his creative niche. As a freelancer, he covered the Biafran War for the BBC, writing an extensive non-fiction account that failed to garner much notoriety or praise for his authorship. Worst of all, Forsyth had effectively depleted his finances. In a last-ditch effort he turned to fiction, writing The Day of the Jackal in just 35 days, basing the events on the sixties’ upheaval in France where he had been a foreign correspondent, and the several assassination attempts on its President Charles de Gaulle – a political target of the anti-decolonization paramilitary group, Organization Armée Secrète (OAS for short).

The Day of the Jackal opens with the real-life plot to murder de Gaulle in ’62, both he and his wife narrowly escaping death in a fusillade of gunfire during a wayside ambush. In preparation for his book, Forsyth extensively interviewed the President’s personal bodyguards. What fascinated Forsyth most: virtually all OAS operatives were not only known to the French authorities but constantly under surveillance.  Speculating first, that the OAS had infiltrated de Gaulle’s private counsel, but also that they just might succeed in their murder plots if they hired a man outside of France, and therefore virtually unknown to the secret police, this intriguing notion eventually evolved into the plot – the Jackal, always several steps ahead of the French authorities in this down-to-the-wire deadly game of cat and mouse. Today, it is utterly fascinating to consider The Day of the Jackal as Forsyth’s fictional foray. The novel, while occasionally veering into intellectual contemplation, is a tour de force, written from hunger, perhaps, but with a startling clarity and concision that makes it a real page-turner mostly from start to finish. Zinnemann had read The Day of the Jackal while it was still in galleys. Assessing the complexities of bringing it to the screen Zinnemann, then a spry 66-yrs.-old, nevertheless signed on to helm the indie-produced project for John Woolf. 

In retrospect, what Zinnemann has achieved in The Day of the Jackal is nothing short of an intricately orchestrated cinematic ballet, choreographed by using the patina of a seemingly straight-forward political thriller that deliciously builds and maintains its suspense.  The Day of the Jackal is an exquisite and harrowing tale of espionage, but also, an exemplar of the film-making standards Zinnemann held dear and close, despite the times. It is assembled with the calculated precision of a master storyteller who not only understands composition, but is wholly invested in the material itself, digested, only slightly condensed, and nimbly distilled so as to have lost none of Forsyth’s attention to detail or its atmospheric documentarian style in translation from page to screen. In choosing an actor to portray the elusive assassin, Zinnemann toyed with offers from Michael Caine, Albert Finney and even, Robert Redford. Ultimately, he went with Edward Fox – a virtual unknown to audiences; a quality Zinnemann felt strongly was essential, convincingly to allow the Jackal to assume his many identities. World-wide, the picture was a hit, grossing $16,056,255 at the box office. Likely Forsyth, who approved of Zinnemann’s efforts, was left kicking himself for having accepted £20,000 in lieu of 15,000, plus a percentage of the gross, which would have equated to infinitely more. Yet, despite its popularity, and a slew of nominations, The Day of the Jackal was unceremoniously overlooked at Oscar-time, save one nomination. It won only a BAFTA for Ralph Kemplen’s editing. Nevertheless, Zinnemann was pleased with the results and rightfully so, as The Day of the Jackal has since gone on to inspire a slew of imitators, steadily to build a reputation as one of the finest political thrillers ever made.

Originally, Zinnemann had signed a two-picture deal with John Woolf; the second movie never materializing, despite their first being a success. And although the plot of Forsyth’s novel is distinctly set in the early sixties, production managers, Henri Jaquillard (France) and John Palmer (Britain) have made zero attempt to mask the influences of the early 1970’s. From a purely logistical perspective, this was likely impossible anyway; The Day of the Jackal shot in four countries, with location work all over the map – from Rome to London, and Paris to Vienna. And although Zinnemann was granted unprecedented access inside the Ministry of the Interior (thanks to French producer, Julien Derode’s connections), shooting largely undercover during France’s real-life ‘Liberation Day’ parade resulted in several unanticipated crowd-control issues; bystanders, quite unaware of the camera in their midst, mistaking actors for the Sûreté and more than a handful believing actor, Adrien Cayla-Legrand was actually Charles de Gaulle! Good trick, that – as de Gaulle had died of natural causes two years earlier.

The Day of the Jackal opens with the August 22, 1962 assassination plot against President General Charles de Gaulle. It seems a militant underground organization known as the OAS is angered by de Gaulle’s granting independence to Algeria. As his motorcade passes en route to the airport, de Gaulle's unarmored Citroën DS is sprayed in machine-gun fire. Miraculously, none of the bullets hit their target. De Gaulle and his entourage board a waiting plane at the airport without further incident. Terrorism, however, will not be tolerated, and, within six months the OAS’s leader, Jean Bastien-Thiry (Jean Sorel) and several key members involved in this plot are captured by the police. Ultimately, and despite several failed tries at a reprieve, Bastien-Thiry is executed by a firing squad. Exiled to Austria, the remaining OAS leaders, including Lt. Col. Marc Rodin (Eric Porter) are ineffectual and operating at a deficit until they elect to hire an outside assassin to do their dirty work. Ultimately, they find their man in Charles Calthrop, a.k.a. The Jackal (Edward Fox) – a Brit-born gun for hire who demands a hefty half-a-million for his services. To finance the operation, the OAS stages a series of daring bank and armored car robberies. In France, Deputy Commissioner Claude Lebel (Michael Lonsdale) forewarns the Minister (Alan Badel) of a sinister plot underway. But it has no shape as yet, and no traceable leads to aid in their investigation.

While the French authorities grapple with what will come next, the Jackal travels to Genoa under a fake passport, having stolen the name of Paul Oliver Duggan from a tombstone as his new identity. He orders a custom-made rifle from a shady gunsmith (Cyril Cusack) and fake identity cards and passports from a skilled forger (Ronald Pickup). While all goes according to plan with the gunsmith, the forger endeavors to blackmail his client for more money; a very bad investment, as the Jackal wastes no time murdering the forger and dumping his remains in a nearby steamer trunk.  Now in Paris under his assumed name, the Jackal sneaks an impression of a key to a flat that overlooks the Place du 18 juin 1940. Alas, the French Action Service have swiftly moved into Rome, kidnaps the OAS’s chief clerk, Viktor Wolenski (Jean Martin). He dies under interrogation, but not before compromising the Jackal’s position.  Convening a secret cabinet, the Minister relies on Police Commissioner Berthier’s (Timothy West) recommendation of Claude Lebel to helm the investigation. Given special emergency powers to conduct his probe, Lebel is stymied by the Jackal’s uncanny ability to remain at least two steps ahead of the game at virtually every interval. Gradually, Lebel begins to suspect someone in the secret cabinet is leaking valuable information to the Jackal abroad.

Indeed, if unknowingly, Colonel St. Clair (Barry Ingham), a personal aide to the President and one of the secret cabinet members, has been disclosing what the government knows to his mistress, Denise (Olga Georges-Picot), the go-between who shares this intel with her OAS contacts. Meanwhile, Lebel unearths Calthrop’s alter ego, Paul Oliver Duggan, has re-entered France. And although Calthrop is tipped off that his cover has been exposed, he stubbornly refused to abort the mission. Instead, in his Alfa Romeo, he retreats to a posh hotel in the countryside where he skillfully seduces the lonely aristocratic, Colette de Montpellier (Delphine Seyrig) Feigning disinterest at first, Colette quickly winds up in Calthrop’s bed. Alas, the Jackal’s cover is nearly blown when an elderly guest of the hotel unexpectedly dies, causing the police and ambulances to arrive to investigate the incident. Learning of the affair between Colette and the Jackal, Lebel arrives at de Montpellier’s country estate to question the lady of the house. She is circumspect about her ‘involvement’ and Lebel departs without ever revealing the true gravity of the situation to her.

Making yet another getaway at the crack of dawn, the Jackal elects to spray paint his Alfa Romeo a different color. He also steals some license plates from a car parked deep in the forest. It is all for not, however, as not even a few miles ahead the Jackal’s car is side-swiped by another on-coming vehicle. The passenger of this car has died in the crash. So, the Jackal now disposes of the body and trades his badly battered Alfa Romeo for the relatively unscathed other car, driving it to de Montpellier's country estate. Unable to telephone Lebel, Colette succumbs to the Jackal’s charms yet again. After bedding her for the last time, only to learn from Colette that Lebel has already been there, the Jackal elects to tie up his loose end, strangling his lover in bed.  Now, he assumes the identity Per Lundquist, a bespectacled Danish schoolteacher on holiday in France. Even as Colette’s body is being discovered by her loyal housemaid and gardener, the Jackal makes his way in her stolen car to a nearby railway station where he catches the next train to Paris.

Lebel initiates a manhunt for Colette’s murderer, no longer hindered by secrecy concerns. As the dragnet narrows all around him, the Jackal, realizing he cannot register at a hotel, allows himself to be picked up by a gay hustler at a Turkish bathhouse. Alas, the next day, the Jackal is forced to kill his host after the man inadvertently learns from a television news bulletin that Lundquist is wanted for murder. Unearthing St. Clair as the leak in the secret cabinet, Lebel deduces the Jackal will strike on Liberation Day, just three days away. St. Clair departs the meeting, leaving his fellow ministers stunned by this revelation. A short while later, Denise returns to St. Clair’s apartment to find him dead of an apparent suicide. She also discovers Lebel waiting to arrest her. Meanwhile, the Jackal, newly disguised as an elderly war veteran and amputee, effortlessly passes through the police barricade, entering the building he has previously chosen to stage his attack. Murdering the harmless old woman who manages the apartments, the Jackal moves into her upstairs bedroom and prepares his rifle. Mercifully, the Gendarme (Philippe Léotard) who allowed the Jackal to pass relays his story to Lebel. Realizing the error in the nick of time, Lebel and the Gendarme storm the apartment. The Jackal uses the bullet meant for de Gaulle on the policeman but cannot reload fast enough to prevent Lebel from riddling him in a hailstorm of bullets, killing him instantly. In the movie’s epilogue, the Jackal is buried in an unmarked grave. We discover the real Charles Calthrop (Edward Hardwicke) alive and well, cleared of any involvement in the OAS assassination plot by Scotland Yard, begging the question, if the Jackal was not Calthrop, then who was he?

The Day of the Jackal is absorbing entertainment – Zinnemann’s third to last picture, followed by the Oscar-winning Julia (1977) and all but forgotten, haunting masterpiece, Five Days One Summer (1982) – ill-received at the time, and, to have put a period to any future career aspirations Zinnemann might have had. If not for Five Days One Summer, Zinnemann, who died in 1997, might have had at least one or maybe even two more pictures in him. The Day of the Jackal reminds us two-fold of Zinnemann’s extraordinary command of the cinema’s language; first, as a grand ole-time film-maker whose ability to morph with the times and dazzle us with the spell-binding clarity of his art had not diminished. Second, to illustrate unequivocally that when it came to telling stories on celluloid, few were as adept at maneuvering their way through a period piece as Fred Zinnemann. Of his contemporaries that he so admired, only two were still working by the time The Day of the Jackal had its premiere: the irascible John Huston, and, gentleman’s gentleman, David Lean. The picture’s success is all the more impressive when one considers there are no ‘stars’ to recommend it. A ‘name above the title’ is always good for box office. Yet, herein, Zinnemann proves the power of a good story and his prowess behind the camera are quite enough to compel an audience to remain seated for nearly 2 ½ hours. In the final analysis, The Day of the Jackal is a testament to Zinnemann – the artist. It remains a suspenseful and stylish tale of political espionage.

Arrow Academy’s Blu-ray is not exactly up to par; a real curiosity and disappointment, as the 1080p transfer is advertised as having been sourced from a 35mm interpositive with 35mm duplicate opticals, and with further ‘restoration’ applied by R3store Studios. If this is the case, I have major issues with both R3store and Uni for letting a lot of imperfections fly under their respective radars. Zinnemann and his cinematographer, Jean Tournier have approached their material with a documentary acumen – yes. So, we get a lot of hand-held work, wed to more traditional setups and dolly shots. That said, the colors on this hi-def transfer just seem off – at times, badly. Flesh tones toggle between piggy pink and ruddy brown and, on several occasions, look jaundice yellow. Built-in gate weave and wobble distract from several long shots and film grain is inconsistently rendered – not only from scene to scene, but shot to shot. Sequences lensed at night experience an unnatural amplification of this grain. Contrast seems weak. And there is more than one occasion where the image is soft and blurry. But it is the colors that suffer the most – appearing anemic to slightly careworn and faded. During the Liberation Day parade sequence, we also get some unusual light bleeding, extreme flicker and lens flair that I am not altogether certain was part of the original theatrical release prints. Overall, this visual presentation left me wanting.  Add to this Arrow has not included chapter stops to access our favorite scenes but instead arbitrarily inserted thirteen breaks that can be accessed via one’s remote at approximately 10 min. intervals and I am sincerely NOT impressed. Extras are thin for an Arrow release: a new interview with author, Neil Sinyard, lasting 36 min. plus two archival clips of Zinnemann at work, and, a BD-ROM accessible screenplay, and that’s it! I really think Uni should get busy on a restoration of this one and soon. This disc left me flat. Regrets.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

2